


Port in a Storm

by nothingamonth



Series: Steve and Thor are FWB [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Come Shot, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Relationship(s), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Top Thor (Marvel), Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 18:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11743047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingamonth/pseuds/nothingamonth
Summary: After the attack on Manhattan, Steve battles the ennui of summer and troubles with certain side effects of the serum.  Thor offers to help him out, no strings attached.  But is there any such thing, truly, and is Thor capable of it?  A reconnaissance mission in Siberia has Steve on edge, and things get strange for Steve.This is a prequel to "That Ass Though."





	Port in a Storm

Thor was considerate enough to put his hands behind Steve’s head when he fucked his mouth--that way his head didn’t bang against the headboard so much.  Steve gripped the man’s ass in both hands, his long fingers grazing Thor’s asshole as he moved in Steve’s mouth.

A moment later, Steve swallowed thickly and thumbed the corner of his mouth.  Thor collapsed beside him and drank deeply from the tankard of Asgardian mead he left on the nightstand.  His heavy arm went around Steve’s shoulders as he drew the other man to his side.

“Can I have a sip of that?” Steve croaked.  His throat was battered from Thor’s cock; it would take even his body a little time to recover from that.  Thor passed him the tankard and Steve drank.  He was sleepy; he settled his head in Thor’s lap and eventually slept with the god running his fingers through his hair.

* * *

Only a few months before, Steve’s irritability reached a high point.  He hadn’t been laid in over seventy years, and everyone was starting to look fuckable, even Fury.  It was only now, as he dethawed, that he realized how the serum had also affected his libido.  During the War, he hadn’t had time to notice that particular side effect.  Now it was all he could think about.  Steve, who hadn’t yet discovered internet porn, would sometimes leave a briefing with a half-chub that he couldn’t resist taking care of in the nearest men’s restroom.  It felt endless, like he was a slave to his cock--a thousand times worse than going through puberty.  The more he jerked off, the less satisfied he became.  His orgasms got further and further away.

Steve was in a pique after another night with no relief, so he prepared morning coffee with a brusqueness that bordered on violence.

Thor was the only one up that early; in fact, Steve suspected that he hadn’t slept yet, much like himself.  The god watched him with calm amusement, which irritated Steve even further.

“Do you want a cup?” Steve asked, attempting to be cordial but the effect was ruined when he spoke through gritted teeth.

“No,” Thor replied, still watching him.  Steve decided he hated him, sitting there with his beautiful hair and massive arms folded over his chest.  Thor epitomized male composure, moving with the kind of measured grace where no movement, however small, was wasted.  Steve was bitter and resentful, but he would still fuck him, of course; that was a given.

“Fine,” Steve replied, and poured himself a large, bracing cup.  He leaned back against the drab counter and drank deeply, despite the heat.  He was just wearing his undershirt and boxers.  He was firmly in the realm of  _ who gives a shit _ and maybe secretly hoped that someone--anyone--would find him attractive enough to make his quest to get laid a little easier.  

On another level, Steve was ashamed of himself.  He knew he should comport himself with more decorum.  On the other, his dick was chafed and raw from his attempts to get off by himself and his imagination, and his balls ached for want of relief.

He sipped his coffee and closed his eyes.  He could do this.  This world was strange and confusing, but he could maintain.  Yes, everyone he knew and loved was dead or dying, but he could maintain.  Maintain, maintain, maintain.  

“Steve,” Thor said, interrupting his thoughts.  Steve opened his eyes and looked over at the god.  A wave of desire and longing washed over him, the way it had once when he would catch Bucky Barnes in a rare moment of repose, or watching a Katharine Hepburn film.  

“Yes?” he asked.  He felt hope, and it was utterly pathetic.  Steve sighed and disguised it as blowing on his coffee.

“May we cut to the chase?” Thor asked.  The lopsided smile on Thor’s face told Steve that he already knew the answer.  Shame made the sudden erection tenting Steve’s boxers wilt slightly.  His mother would have told him he was acting like a cat in heat and took him to task for it.  

In the time that it took Steve to mentally berate himself, Thor had gotten up and crossed the kitchen.  He canted his hips against the counter next to Steve, inches away but not touching.  Steve could smell him: his woodsy, masculine scent.  Steve turned his body slightly towards the other man, forgetting (at least on some level) about his erection.  Thor looked down and comically arched his brows.

“Very nice.  Your chambers or mine?” he asked.

Relief made Steve dizzy.  Soon he could relax and think clearly--and it wouldn’t be so bad to be close to someone again.  Things were different now--nobody touched.  Growing up, he and Bucky had been physically affectionate as often as they had tried to kill each other.  He thought Thor came from a similar culture, at least when it came to touch.  His huge hand grasped the back of Steve’s head as he brought their lips together in a wet, smoldering kiss.  Steve naturally gave, relaxing into the other man.  His stubbornness disappeared in the bedroom, and he wasn’t about to waste time to fight Thor for dominance.

Thor broke the kiss and ran his hand down Steve’s spine and over his ass, gripping the muscle hard.

“My chambers,” Thor decided.

Steve followed the other blond upstairs with barely saying a word. 

* * *

Thor twisted both hands in the thin fabric of Steve’s undershirt and hauled him up to his lips.  While Thor’s tongue plundered his mouth, Steve focused on that hair, running it through his fingers and tugging, directing the other man’s mouth with little nudges.  He was abruptly dropped on his feet while his shirt was pulled over his head.  Thor leaned back and studied him, his fingers toying with Steve’s nipples off and on.  

“I have long wondered what your tits look like under your shirts.  You wear them--distractingly tight,” Thor said.

“Tits,” Steve repeated.  Then he wondered why he thought Thor would refer to his chest any other way.  This wasn’t exactly a “bosom” scenario.  He half-leaned into the touch and dampened his lips with his tongue.  “I’m a bad judge of size.  I used to be much smaller.”  

Thor traced Steve’s lower lip with his thumb, pulling it away from his teeth briefly.  He was smiling, eyes flashing.  “And I’m sure just as adorable.”

Steve grinned at the silly back and forth and slid his hands up underneath Thor’s shirt (tunic?) after he pulled it free of his belt.  The god felt like he was carved out of stone.  There was nothing soft about Thor.  Even his kisses were hard, as he demonstrated by leaning in to capture Steve’s lips again.  Before he pushed his tongue into Steve’s mouth, he pressed his lips against his teeth so hard that Steve tasted blood.  The tiny cuts healed almost immediately, certainly by the time Thor pushed him onto a low slung couch.  It was covered in the fur of a thick, unknown animal and felt luxurious against Steve’s bare back and chest.  Thor took advantage of the moment--and the audience--to pull his top over his head and reveal the broad, golden glory that was his chest.  Steve was suitably impressed and let out a low wolf whistle.  

Thor laughed, turning his face away sheepishly.  His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, like someone Steve once knew.  Steve was aroused and a little sad at the same time.  He shifted his weight onto his shoulders and let the fur slide against his back.  His erection had slipped through the fly of his boxers and stood proudly against his hip.  

There wasn’t a lot of talking that first time.  Thor descended on Steve and made him come like a freight train after only a moment or two in the god’s palm.  Thor directed Steve with his hands, telling him when he wanted his dick sucked or when it was time to get on his hands and knees.  Steve was content to be guided by those large, strong hands.  He came again--or was it three times?--but definitely while Thor was inside of him.  The god had groaned when Steve tightened around him and dropped his golden head on Steve’s shoulder.

When the storm passed and their desires were satiated, Thor slept with his head pillowed on Steve’s chest.  The other blond dozed off and on, completely relaxed for the first time since he was defrosted.  He stroked Thor’s long hair, twining the strands between his fingers while he stared out the open window.  Steve toyed with the occasional braid, always inspecting the bit of leather that held it fast or a bead woven therein.  Then he would fall asleep again.

Around noon, Thor woke and passed the favor onto Steve by lightly patting his cheek.  Of course, to him, “lightly patting” felt like a bitch slap to Steve.  He woke with a gasp, just barely keeping his fighting instincts at bay.

“What is it?” he hissed, thinking maybe the Tower had been attacked.  He was already trying to sit up, but Thor kept him down with a hand on his chest.

“Nothing, love.  I just thought you might be hungry,” he said.  The sun shone through the long curtain of his hair, and Steve gradually relaxed.  The War was close in his memory, having ended (in his experience) less than two months before.

“Oh.  Yeah, I guess I am.”  He scooted out from underneath Thor, fully aware of the lengths of their bodies sliding past one another.  With Thor on his hands on his knees, Steve could see exactly how big the other’s cock was between his legs.  He blushed and looked at his hands.  

Thor rolled onto the floor with his feet underneath him and padded naked into the kitchen.  Steve got up on his knees to watch him, draping himself over the back of the couch.  Thor was gorgeous, but not Steve’s typical fare.  He’d always gone for brunettes.

They enjoyed a subdued meal together while Thor tried to prod Steve into conversation, but the man was polite and distant.  He dressed and left soon after.

* * *

It was another week before Steve and Thor’s routines would bring them together again.  This time, it was chasing down a lead on Loki’s scepter in Siberia.  Steve felt wrong being there in the cold, but his partners, Thor and Natasha, seemed to be thriving.  

The small hotel room that they shared the night before the operation contained two beds, a mostly private toilet, and inconsistent heat.  There was a brief discussion about the bed situation in which Steve offered to sleep on the floor, and Thor refused.  He and Steve took the bed furthest from the radiator, assuming the shared body heat would make up for the difference.  Steve wore a sweatshirt and long johns to bed.  Natasha slept in a utilitarian black camisole and panties, and Thor wore not much at all.  Natasha and Thor were nonplussed by the nudity.  Steve couldn’t stop blushing.

When the lights were turned off, Steve breathed a sigh of relief.  He was very aware of Thor’s heat behind him.  He couldn’t stop thinking of the morning they had spent together a week before, and the guilt he felt about it.  Specifically, the guilt surrounding Bucky Barnes and Peggy Carter, two people whom he loved and were now gone or going.

They were seventy years gone, in fact--but to him it was just weeks.  An armful of days.  He didn’t know how to grieve for that.  Steve sighed, and Thor slipped an arm around his waist under the thick blanket.  Steve clutched his forearm, at first to stop him, then to anchor himself.  Thor kissed his ear as he pushed Steve’s sweatshirt up over his abdomen.

Steve released a harsher breath, meant to warn the other off, but Thor misconstrued it for desire.  His fingers slipped under the elastic waistband of his long underwear and circled his half-hard dick.  

His eyes flew to the other bed, where Natasha lay on her back, eyes closed.  Steve tried to dislodge Thor’s hand, but he was more likely to tear his dick off than get away.  The Asgardian stroked Steve until he was hard, biting back little gasps and moans when Thor’s thumb rounded the head of his cock.  Thor buried his face in Steve’s neck and lapped at the skin there.  Steve grumbled deep in his chest as he moved into the other’s mouth.

“In Asgard, it isn't uncommon for comrades to take comfort in each other’s bodies. This doesn't have to be anything more than that,” Thor said softly. His voice was a low rumble that Steve felt in his chest and resonated in his groin. He groaned again, still very aware of how exposed he was--and of Natasha sleeping six feet away.

Thor continued to pump Steve’s cock while he slid his own between the other blond’s ass cheeks. Steve’s long johns were down around his thighs. Thor kept kissing his neck, grinding against his ass, and stroking him--and Steve was coming undone. When he looked up and saw Natasha watching them with an enigmatic smirk and unreadable eyes, Steve didn't tell Thor to stop. He was too close now; consequences be damned, his body demanded satisfaction. Thor rolled him onto his back, seemingly heedless of their audience’s gaze, and kissed Steve in earnest while his blunt, callused fingers thrust between his legs and found his entrance.

Steve gripped the headboard and arched his entire body into Thor’s touch. The wood groaned under the pressure but held up, even when Thor’s index finger breached him. Steve cried out, forgetting about Natasha, forgetting about anything except the hands working him into a frenzy.

Thor hadn’t thought about the woman’s presence at all.  He had shared similar quarters with his own band of warriors back home, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to end the day in each other’s beds.  In fact, he wouldn’t have objected if Natasha had crawled in with them, even though his attention was centered on Steve.

He had a kind of beauty not often seen in Asgard: open, honest, pure.  Thor had considered taking him to bed many times before he actually did it.  It was clear that Steve was struggling with the losses of his kin and comrades, and he was confused as to why the people around him failed to see it.  Thor was almost six hundred years old; seventy years was a drop in the bucket to his people, even if Steve hadn’t been frozen, he would have understood.  He cared a great deal about Steve, and although he wouldn’t call his feelings exactly romantic, they weren’t only erotic, either.

Thor spit into his palm before he wrapped his free hand around both their cocks.  Steve’s shirt was rucked up under his armpits, exposing those tits that drove Thor insane.  He wanted to mount Steve’s chest and let his cock slide between that shallow furrow between Steve’s pecs.  

The thought of it sent Thor over the edge.  When he came, it was with a shout of surprise.  His finger slid deeper into Steve’s ass and that, combined with the hot semen splashing across his chest, brought him to orgasm.  It was only after a minute or so that he came to his senses and slowly turned his head to look over at Natasha.  

She was staring at them both with lips slightly parted, though her expression was otherwise unchanged.  The feeling in the room, however, was very different.  Steve wanted to hide under the blankets, but what would that do now?  He averted his eyes as Thor handed him a washcloth to wipe the come from his chest, righted his clothes, and slid in next to the man beside him.  Thor wrapped his huge arms around Steve’s chest and held him tight, forcing Steve to look out at Natasha’s bed.  She had turned onto her side away from them.  It was only then that Steve was able to sleep.

* * *

Siberia still disconcerted Steve for some unknown reason.  Walking around the streets made him feel on edge, like he was being watched--beyond the local townspeople, that is.  It was like a hand on the back of his neck: oppressive.  Steve kept rubbing the back of his neck as he fell behind his colleagues.  Natasha dressed all three of them in casual winterwear, because neither Steve nor Thor knew much about modern dress.  Steve’s new boots crunched in the snow as he ran to catch up with them.

Natasha looped her arm in his and smiled up at him.  Steve blushed and looked away.  “Any news?” he asked.

“Little whispers here and there,” she replied.  “I have an idea in mind.”

Steve nodded his head.  Thor walked beside him without touching him.  It was different now in the daylight, while they were “at work.”  Thor’s usually carefree eyes were dark and narrow.  Steve had a half-formed fantasy jerked out of his head when Natasha tugged on his arm.  

“When are we going home?” Steve asked, covering the back of his neck.  Something was wrong here.

“Soon,” she answered.

“Not soon enough,” he replied.

Back at the hotel, Natasha explained her plan.  What brought them here in the first place were reports from SHIELD satellites that there was a large, underground base in the area--most likely Russian, though it was possible that HYDRA had held it for a time.  The entrance was disguised as a church; the staircase leading to the base was supposedly behind the altar.

Steve, a confirmed Catholic of the Irish persuasion, blanched.  It was clear from Thor’s disdainful expression that he didn’t approve of a house of worship being used that way either.  Natasha just shrugged her shoulders.  “In the USSR we didn’t have churches,” she explained.

They left when the sun went down, breaking into the church through an old window.  Steve expected there to be guards, which is why he brought his shield, but there was nothing.  The building was empty except for the Corpus: Christ’s tortured body hanging on the cross above the altar--above the staircase.  They descended, still on guard, until they switched the power on in the old base.  It lit up light by fluorescent light, exposing a long row of cages and a cement floor covered in old blood stains.

“I don’t sense anything,” Thor announced.

“I don’t see anything living,” Natasha confirmed, looking at some device on her wrist.

“Something terrible happened here,” Steve concluded.  “Let’s go.  We’re not going to find what we’re looking for here.”

Natasha ignored him, going on to explore the rest of the base, probably collecting information along the way.  Steve hovered near the stairs, transfixed by the blood stains so old they were going hazy at the edges.

“Does it remind you of something?” Thor asked.  He draped an arm over Steve’s shoulder--more of a friendly embrace than a romantic one.

“No,” Steve replied, shaking his head, “nothing specific.  I just know it means something.”  His voice gathered strength as he finished his thought.  Now that he’d given it voice, he was sure.  

“It means someone got very badly hurt,” the Asgardian said flippantly, as if finding underground bunkers covered in years old blood was commonplace for him.  And maybe it was.  In any case, he was being deliberately obtuse, so Steve kept his silence until Natasha returned.  Maybe Steve really was being paranoid, because he sensed a change in her too.  She refused to meet Steve’s eyes and snapped at them when they weren’t leaving that place fast enough to her liking.

They flew back to the States after that, all of them quiet and a bit peevish with each other.  Whatever they had shared the night before was gone--at least for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! Hopefully I can work through my writer's block. Since I posted last, I started HRT and have officially medically transitioned. I'm curious if the tone of my writing has changed after six months on testosterone. Thanks for sticking around with me. Reach out to me at nothingamonth.tumblr.com.


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